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This man was dangerous.
Vermouth could tell immediately. Yet she remained calm.
In the organization, weaklings didn't even get codenames. They were expendable labor. Anyone with a codename was elite.
"How do you know all of this?"
Having every buried secret dragged into the open by a stranger felt like being stripped naked in public.
Most people would panic.
But for Vermouth, someone who lived on the edge, it was exhilarating.
A real opponent made things interesting.
"Does it matter?" Steven lifted his glass. "If you don't have business, finish your drink and leave. Don't ruin my sweet dreams."
He made a polite toast and downed the whiskey in one go.
Transmigrating into the Conan world with full memories was like having the script in advance. Vermouth's secrets were child's play to him.
"I want to invite you to join the organization," Vermouth said, finally getting to the point.
"Give me a reason."
Steven poured himself another drink and looked at her with a half-smile.
The Black Organization reaching out meant the MPD bombing had caused a serious stir. Enough to catch the attention of the most professional and secretive crime syndicate in this world.
Still, Steven had his own way of surviving. He didn't necessarily need to tie himself to any faction.
"You've offended both the Japanese police and the FBI," Vermouth said calmly. "Do you really think you can live peacefully like that?"
"The organization can provide weapons, money, and protection. If necessary, we can even forge a new identity for you and help you evade both the MPD and the FBI."
Not bad terms.
Steven stared at her, calculating silently.
Joining wasn't out of the question.
If he caused trouble, the organization could take the blame. If he needed money, he could just ask them for funding.
A perfect sucker walking right up to his door.
Why wouldn't he take advantage of that?
Even if one day he fell out with the Organization, Steven wasn't afraid at all.
With Brother Wolf's overpowered skills backing him up, taking out Gin and stepping on Karasuma Renya didn't sound impossible.
"What you said are necessary conditions, but not sufficient ones. I'm not very satisfied."
Steven didn't rush to agree. He lifted his glass and took an elegant sip of wine.
The world was a massive web of interests. Only people with real value ever got targeted.
What he really wanted to know was why the Organization wanted him in the first place.
After all, anyone you picked at random from that group was an elite with a unique specialty.
"Gin thinks you're a rare criminal genius. You play with explosives like an artist. What a waste it would be if you fell into the hands of the local police or the FBI."
"With great ability comes great responsibility. The Organization wants to invite you to help create a new world."
"Mr. Steven, are you satisfied now?"
Not bad. There was something to this.
Steven wasn't surprised that Vermouth knew who he was. Blowing up the Metropolitan Police building was a huge deal. If the Organization couldn't dig up anything after that, it would've gone bankrupt long ago.
What impressed him was Vermouth's approach. A mix of threats and temptation.
Between the lines, it was obvious. The Organization wanted his bomb-making skills.
Not agreeing? That was half the fun.
Steven wanted to see just how big a surprise they had prepared for him.
"So that means there's no room to negotiate? Mr. Steven, why don't you name your terms?"
Vermouth crushed out her cigarette, an unreadable smile flashing across her lips.
By the Organization's rules, anyone who knew her identity and refused recruitment only had one ending: death.
"It's simple. A man lives for three things."
"First, pride. Second, women. Third, power."
"If you're willing to be my personal attendant, maybe I'll consider joining the Black Organization."
Steven glanced at Vermouth's right hand resting near her waist and calmly laid out his condition.
A man needed a woman by his side.
Especially someone like Vermouth. Beautiful, talented, mysterious, and aloof. Fully conquering a woman like that would be insanely satisfying.
"Heh heh… do you know what happens when you offend the queen?"
"Death."
Vermouth's eyes turned icy. She drew the gun from her waist, flicked off the safety, clearly planning to force the bomb-making method out of him before putting a bullet in his head.
She was fast.
But still half a beat too slow.
"In terms of hand speed, you really think you can beat someone who's been single for twenty years?"
"Miss Sharon, I've got two guns trained on you now. Looks like you're not exactly in the winning position."
Steven pressed a sniper rifle against Vermouth's forehead, teasing her with a cryptic smile.
The other gun already had a round chambered.
"Don't be rash. Let's talk this out!"
Vermouth sensibly flipped the safety back on and gently set her pistol on the table.
Inside her head, a massive question mark popped up.
"I really want to know. Where did you pull that sniper rifle from?"
Steven had just come out of the bathroom without even a bathrobe on, and suddenly produced a sniper rifle. Anyone would find that unbelievable.
"!"
Steven replied with a single English word, perfectly matching Vermouth's usual verbal tic.
Secrets made men more attractive.
"Interesting. But that doesn't mean you'll win."
Vermouth flashed a wicked smile, tilted her head, and whipped out a dagger, lunging straight for his vital spot.
"Naughty. You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit? Guess I'll have to deal with you using the other gun."
That was close.
Steven felt a chill run down his spine. He barely dodged in time. A second slower and he would've lost his future generations.
"Off you go!"
Before Vermouth could attack again, Steven had already put away the sniper rifle. With overwhelming strength, he lifted her like a chick and slammed her onto the bed.
Hand-to-hand combat?
Besides the discount version of the Awei Eighteen Moves, after fusing the Grey Wolf card, he'd gained mastery of all eighteen martial disciplines.
He could use whatever move he wanted. Dealing with Vermouth was easy.
"What are you trying to do?!"
Vermouth shouted, struggling to get up and fight back.
"You."
Steven answered with a single word, leaped onto the bed, and pinned her down with absolute force.
Trying tricks in front of him was basically asking for a beating.
Furious, Steven had no concept of tenderness. He showed no mercy as he carried out his punishment.
…
Beika Town, an abandoned warehouse.
"I've never betrayed the Organization. I'm not a mole for Public Security…"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. A middle-aged man collapsed stiffly to the ground, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere.
"Traitors never admit they're traitors. Disgusting trash, like garbage in a slop bucket."
Ever since Shuichi Akai's undercover identity was exposed, Gin had launched a thorough purge.
Anyone with suspicious status who couldn't prove their innocence ended up dead.
Click.
Gin flicked open his lighter, lit a cigarette, and turned to Vodka.
"Clean it up. Don't leave a single trace."
Before his words even faded, his phone rang.
"Vermouth. This better be good news."
Gin sneered at the caller ID and answered.
"....."